


Dress

by swanprincess



Series: Call It What You Want [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Secret Relationship, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 14:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14380263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanprincess/pseuds/swanprincess
Summary: inspired by "Dress" by Taylor Swiftbasically Gendrya can't keep their hands off each other but have to keep it a secret





	Dress

Arya walked into the dining hall at Acorn Hall, self-consciously adjusting the sleeves of her dress. She hated wearing the stupid things, they were uncomfortable and not nearly as practical as breeches and a tunic, but Lady Smallwood had always insisted, and was even pushier now that Arya was a woman grown. The dress was a bit small, which made it even more uncomfortable, and so lowcut that she attracted the leers and whistles of many of the Brotherhood, half of whom were already in their cups. But being forced into the stupid thing became suddenly worth it when she saw _his_ reaction.

His jaw clenched tightly, and he’d gripped his mug so hard his knuckles were white. His eyes, usually as blue as the sky on a cloudless day, had darkened nearly to the same shade of coal as his hair.Their eyes met, and everything in the hall fell away, the laughter, the shouting, everything, leaving just the two of them.

Arya felt a shiver go through her under his bold gaze, and could feel the heat of caresses he had trailed over her body before, during stolen moments deep in the woods, away from prying eyes. She felt as though she were covered in markings, black and gold swirls covering every inch of her skin where he had touched her. For a moment she felt as though the marks where glowing, that everyone could suddenly see, that everyone would know.

But then a serving girl had bumped into her, and she was brought back into the present, a secretive smirk playing at her lips as she realized that no one had noticed her brief reverie, that still no one knew about the wolfgirl and the blacksmith boy.

At first, they had both tried to ignore it, pretending they didn’t feel the jolts of electricity whenever they touched, that they didn’t dream of each other every night. It had been getting to the point where they could hardly be within five feet of each other, until one night they’d found themselves alone together, and neither had the energy to keep denying what they felt. Since then they stole moments whenever they could, a hidden caress here, a peck on the lips when no one was looking, both of them giddy and aroused by the secrecy of it all.

Grinning at the memory, Arya glided over to the table seating her friends, taking a spot across from Gendry. She offered him a brief salacious smile, before grabbing food from the center of the table and loudly announcing that she was absolutely starving.

They managed the meal without an incident (the Brotherhood were bloody fools, truth be told, all too busy wondering about who they themselves were going to fuck to be distracted by anyone elses’ love lives). It was the end of the meal, when it was still too early to retire, but late enough that everyone was in their cups, that they ran into trouble. Arya had been chatting away, hardly paying attention to what she was doing, and reaching for another piece of bread when their hands touched. It was just for the briefest moment, an innocent graze of their fingertips, but it was enough to send the now familiar jolt of electricity through her, and cause her to jerk her hand away.

She wanted him _now_. Her hands shook as she forced herself to stay in her seat, to keep herself from leaping over the table and fucking him there, in the hall, with everyone around. Who cared that she was a Stark, and he was a Waters? She was his and he was hers, and _she needed him now._

Arya settled for gripping her flagon with all of her might, trying to hide her trembling. She was sure Gendry noticed though, and could tell by the way he savagely tore through the bread that his thoughts were in the same vein as hers.

She excused herself shortly after that, claiming she was getting lightheaded from all the beer, and Gendry offered to accompany her to her chambers. They had agreed that it would be innocent enough, after all, some of the Brotherhood could get awfully handsy when they were in their cups, and Arya had shared chambers with the rest of them for ages before Lady Oakheart had finally put her foot down and proclaimed that the girl was too old for such things. Besides all that, they were best friends (they were so much more).

Unfortunately, Anguy had decided to accompany them, deciding the serving girl he’d been flirting with wasn’t all that cute after all (she’d chosen Lem over him) and that he’d best just call it a night. The walk to her chambers was torturous. Gendry’s large hand was on the small of her back, and she could feel the heat from him through her dress’ thin material. He smelled like fire and steel and soot, just like he always did, and Arya inhaled deeply, letting the scent intoxicate her.

At the threshold to the room she was given, Anguy and Gendry wished her goodnight, and Gendry removed his hand from her waist, lingering just long enough, meeting her eyes with a gaze that promised more, and sending a wave of excited anticipation through her. The door had hardly latched before Arya was at the window, clambering through and racing across the grounds to the forge. Patience had never been her strong suit.

She got there before him, and paced impatiently, chewing on her bottom lip as she waited for him to arrive. When he finally did, she flew into his arms, and he laughed into the kiss as she devoured his lips.

“And here I was worrying that dress had turned you into a lady.” He teased when she finally released him.

“As if.” She huffed, tossing her head so her wild curls fell down her back, exposing more of her white throat and chest. The way his eyes had darkened as he took her in told her it had the desired effect.

“You look ravishing in it Arry.” He told her, his voice husky. The ache in her grew, and she needed him to be touching her again.

“Then ravish me.” She suggested sweetly, looking up at him through her lashes. That’s all it took. With a low growl, he yanked her towards him, capturing her mouth in his once more as his fingers fumbled at the laces. She giggled at his enthusiasm, glad that she wasn’t the only one who struggled to restrain herself, and melted into him.

Arya trailed kisses down to his throat, could feel his pulse hammering against her lips as she hurriedly worked to strip him of his tunic and breeches. She first freed his cock, attempting to wrap the fingers of one hand around its thickness while using the others to pull his shirt over his head. Given their height difference and the fact that she was using only one hand, she gave up on his shirt, instead trying to see just how loudly she could make him moan using just her hands.

Unfortunately she had to let go, since he’d finally managed to loosen her dress enough to haul her out of it, wrapping one strong arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees to carry her over to the cot in the corner, laying her down with a tenderness that was so contradictory to his brute strength that she wanted to laugh. That urge passed though, when his work-roughened fingers drew spirals down from her collarbone, one hand stopping at her breast, the other continuing down to lightly flick her pink nub. And then she was enveloped in him, nuzzling the crook between his neck and shoulder, lightly sucking on that one spot on his throat that drew out the most satisfying growl, ghosting her hands over his shoulders, his chest, his muscular stomach, finally stopping at his cock, gently pumping the massive length.

He tweaked her nipple with calloused fingertips, taking her other breast in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the nub and lightly nipping it. His other hand was busy between her legs, coaxing a symphony of noises from her as he caressed and flicked and slowly pushed one finger in and out.

“ _Gendry_ , I need…” Bursting with arousal, Arya ground against his hand, tightening her grip on his cock. He drew back and smirked at her.

“You need what?” He asked, feigning innocence. _He's going to make me ask for it._ Arya glared up at him. She hated (loved) when he did this. “This?” He asked, driving two fingers deeply into her. The motion made her shudder pleasantly, but she shook her head.

“I _need_ you to fuck me properly.” She told him through gritted teeth. “I _need_ you to fucking ravage me like in one of the songs. I _need_ your cock so deep in my cunt that I can’t tell where you end and I begin. I _need_ you to make me forget my own name.” She felt his cock harden even more at her words, and he grinned devilishly at her.

“All you had to do was ask.” Before she could cuss him out for the sheer impudence of it (she fucking loved it when he was cocky) she was instead hissing his name as he plunged into her, and all of her feigned irritation evaporated as he overwhelmed her senses.

Arya wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him tightly against her and bucking her hips in rhythm with his thrusts. He dipped his head down to hers, lavishing kisses across her face, her collarbones, her breasts, all the time slamming into her deep enough to make her scream with the fullness she felt.

“Arya.” He murmured against her skin. “Arya Arya Arya.” She came then, and had to shove her fist into her mouth to muffle her sob of _“Gendry”_ as she surrendered all of herself to him, he was the one thing tethering her to this time and place. Her cunt tightened around his cock, and he fell over the edge into his own release soon after, quickly pulling out and spilling his seed on her stomach and breasts.

Kissing her soundly, he grabbed a cloth from their pile of clothing and mopped his seed off of her. She sighed and laid her head on his chest, so she could clearly hear his heartbeat, and he wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her hair.

“I wish we could stay like this.” She whispered, tracing patterns on his broad chest. He sighed softly underneath her.

“I do too love.” He ran his fingers through her long hair. “We can for a little while.” A while, but not all night. They couldn't risk being found together, their limbs entwined and their hearts beating as one. But they could stay like this for a little while.

“I love you.” She managed to murmur, before drifting off to sleep.


End file.
